


melting you like a sugar cube

by ficfucker



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prostate Milking, it's just... real gross you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: “Harry, I wish you would hurry up and undress. It’s embarrassing being the only naked party.”





	melting you like a sugar cube

**Author's Note:**

> title from a richard siken poem

“S’alright, Dale,” Harry breathes above him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “S’alright,” he repeats. His voice is low and soft, like he’s coaxing a wild animal into the open. 

Cooper swallows and nods. He’s noticed, just from this reassurance alone, his heart rate has gone down. 

He wishes Harry would hurry up and undress. He feels so foolish lying around half-naked with someone fully clothed above him, especially a someone who looks at him the way Harry looks at him: like he’s hung the moon. It’s embarrassing. 

“Harry, I wish you would hurry up and undress. It’s embarrassing being the only naked party.”

Harry blinks then laughs at the bluntness of the request, gives Cooper another kiss on the temple before sitting up and making to ruck off his shirt. In his excitement, though, he stumbles doing the buttons and once those are off, his formal shirt removed, he must forget he’s still got his Stetson on, because he goes to pull off his dark undershirt and knocks the hat off his head. 

Cooper giggles, can’t help himself. He tries to prop himself up on his elbows, but Harry’s got him well pinned with his knees. “You know, I could help you there if I wasn’t trapped down here.” 

“Mhm.” Harry leans over the side of the hotel bed to pick up his hat, not moving off of Cooper for a second. His arms are long enough that he can reach it without much shifting. “But I think I quite like you,” Harry murmurs, tilting down to kiss Cooper, “right where you are.” He sets his hat on the wooden bedpost nearest to him. 

Cooper starts going red again, wants to squirm away. He’s still got on his sleeveless white undershirt, his slacks undone but only partly peeled off, caught around his hips. He’s not sure what to say or do now, watching Harry watch him with that heavy gaze. _ If you like where I am now, I’m sure you’ll like it more with less between us _ , he thinks to say, but the line seems awkward even in his head, a try-too-hard attempt at flirting. 

Luckily, Harry is the one to pull them along, no prompting required. He curls a fist into the front of Cooper’s shirt, asks, “You mind?” He’s smiling. 

Cooper wants to laugh, the banter still held up during sex (or whatever you’d call what they’re doing, Cooper’s not sure of the endgame yet), but nothing comes out of him. He shakes his head, lifts his arms.

Harry pulls the shirt up and off. It’s amusing how taken apart Dale already is, his hair starting to muss, his face flushed. It’s a wild polarization from how formal he is in uniform, odd, no doubt, a man with quirks, but even with the strangenesses of the agent, the differences from outward personality to this is extreme. Harry wouldn’t have guessed him so shy. 

Maybe it’s because they’re both men. 

“S’alright,” Harry says a third time. He eases off of Cooper, knelt in the bed beside him, and tugs at his pants, giving him a look that asks permission. 

Once again, Cooper is going to be the more naked party. Harry still has on his slacks, not yet unbuttoned, but Cooper nods and allows his hips to be held up, trousers removed. 

Harry bends down and presses a kiss to Cooper’s hipbone, his lower stomach. 

“Oh,” Cooper gasps. He can feel his belly tremble slightly. 

“And these?” Harry asks in a whisper. A finger hooks into the waistband of Cooper’s plaid print boxers, tugs at them lightly, playfully. 

“Go ahead.” 

Cooper and Harry make eye contact and the air between them stills, a thick, heavy curtain. The room is filled with electricity. Cooper can practically see little blue-white bolts zipping around. 

“Do you want to stop?” Harry asks sincerely. 

Cooper shakes his head, wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, and gives him a reassuring squeeze. “No. Not at all.” 

Harry hums, starts inching Cooper’s underwear down. “Tell me, though. If you change your mind.”

Cooper lifts his hips some off the bed, lets Harry work his boxers off completely. “I will,” he says. 

Harry looks down at him with that kind, pointed gaze, his eyes soft as melted chocolate, and Cooper can’t help it, he throws an arm over his eyes, turns his chin away. Harry chuckles and lifts the dead-weight arm up, peeks over at him. 

“Get out of your own head a minute, Coop,” he whispers. He kisses him on the side of the mouth. 

Cooper smiles weakly, shuffles up and kisses Harry again, a hand going to the side of his face. “Right.” He looks down at Harry’s lips, wants to kiss him again. He does. “Get out of my own head. Harder said than done, though, when you’re looking at me like I’m some new evidence you’re investigating.”

Harry leans into his palm. “The mysterious case of the stunning special agent,” he teases. His voice is affectionate, almost painfully so. 

Cooper smiles, says, “You’re not helping.” 

“Fine then. Time to be more hands-on, I suppose.” Harry straddles Cooper again, hands racing up and down his pale, flat chest, fingers hooking over his nipples, accidental grazes. It makes Cooper wiggle, shudder out a breath. Harry does this a moment longer, touching him all over, tracing the line of his collarbones, the ridges of his ribs. 

Finally, he wraps a hand feather-light around Cooper, gives him a slow, experimental tug. 

“Oh,” Cooper gasps. He swallows and inhales sharply when Harry strokes him again. 

“Is that a good ‘oh?’”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” Cooper realizes he should be reciprocating the touch and draws his hand up, cups Harry through his britches, finds him hard and warm. That excites him greatly and he throbs in Harry’s hand, a pearl of precum gathering thickly before it weighs and rolls down, caught by Harry’s thumb and smeared gently. 

Cooper gets enough mind about him to sit up some and use both hands to undo the button fly on Harry’s pants, start peeling back his layers. He’s impatient. He gets the fly open and gracelessly dips his hand into Harry’s underwear, grips him firmly. 

Harry’s hips inch forward and he groans. “Jesus, Dale,” he husks when Cooper jerks him slowly, wrist awkward against the strain of the elastic in his underwear, awkward at the angles he’s trying. 

“I have uhm.” Cooper swallows, shivers when Harry repositions his hold on him. “I have things. In the nightstand.”

Harry nods and reaches over, letting go of Cooper to search around in the drawers. He’s glad Harry doesn’t ask, doesn’t even give him a knowing look because it’s embarrassing enough as is: admitting that you keep lubricant and such with you even in strange, sleepy towns, in hotel rooms. 

Cooper’s stopped stroking Harry, is just holding him in his hand. He can’t believe how warm he is, how soft. 

Harry uncaps the small bottle of clear lubricant then pauses, looks at Cooper blankly. “I don’t want to be presumptuous with what you’re after here, but…” 

“Yeah. I.” Cooper wishes he could speak clearly, is sick of chopping his words so badly. “I want it.” 

Harry bends down to kiss him and Cooper tilts up to greet him, tongue yielding beneath his. They both hum, pull away from it with small smiles. “Alright,” Harry murmurs, foreheads pressed together. 

He shifts back and politely brushes Cooper’s hand aside, pulls down his underwear properly. Cooper watches Harry as he squeezes a dollop of lube onto his fingers, rubs them between his thumb. Probably to warm it, spread it evenly. 

Cooper lifts his legs up, an arm swung under the backs of knees. He feels exceptionally exposed now, wants to cover his face again. He doesn’t, though, tries to get out of his own head. 

Harry drags a single finger over his entrance and Cooper stiffens, quivers under his touch. “Just gotta relax…,” Harry hums. “I want this to feel good for you.” 

Cooper nods. He unclenches his jaw. 

Harry presses his index finger into him and Cooper exhales, tries to adjust to the feeling. It’s not necessarily bad, but there’s no pleasure in it, either. Harry curls his finger experimentally, slides it further in, almost up to his third knuckle. 

“Alright?” Harry asks. 

Cooper nods, gives a thumbs up. He’s trying for a genuine smile when Harry snorts a laugh and Cooper grins in return. The air thins at that, Cooper’s body unspooling a bit more. 

Harry presses in his middle finger, makes Cooper twist his hips funny. His erection is softening some. At the angle he’s got his legs, though, he figures Harry can’t see. His thighs are pressed tight together. 

“Still alright?”

“Mm-hm.” 

Harry crooks his fingers, searching, and he brushes something exactly right because Cooper drops his legs, nearly kicking Harry, and squirms like he’s been electrocuted. He makes a broken noise, unintelligible. “ _ Jesus _ , Harry,” he gasps. He pulls his legs back up and peers at Harry from around his own thighs, looks at him with wide, shocked eyes. 

Harry just smirks. He knows what he’s done. “I’d ask if you’re alright but I think I already know the answer.” He puts a hand to Cooper’s thigh, lowers and spreads his legs. 

“Whatever that was,” Cooper pants, “do it again.” 

Harry wraps a hand around Cooper and strokes him gently, holds his eye contact steady as he hooks his fingers back up inside him, hits that spot that makes Cooper sputter and flop his head back into the pillows. His hair is starting to flutter out around the sides of his face, kicking out at the nape of his neck. It droops over his forehead. Harry watches him, his own cock heavy and twitching at the sight.

He’d had plans to do more, but Harry likes Cooper this way, doesn’t mind letting him finish just using his fingers. He keeps pressing up on his prostate and Cooper is practically writhing in the sheets, chest heaving, knuckles bone-white where he digs into the mattress. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Cooper whines. “Shit,  _ Harry _ , that’s…” Whatever embarrassment he’d had early is gone now. It feels like he’s going to piss himself. He feels brainless, wanting to tense his body tight as a coil, wanting to dissolve right through the bed and into the floor. 

Harry just keeps stroking him, working his fingers inside him. Cooper mewls, makes small, needy noises. Both his eyes are wrenched shut, tight lines of his neck bulging. He wiggles back at the touch every time, trying to chase it. 

“Harry, I’m...,” he moans, frantic. “I’m…!” He doesn’t even know. Everything feels so alien and wonderful, Cooper can’t get his mind together. His lower stomach clenches, all the joints in his legs tightening up. Harry spits into his palm, strokes him faster. Cooper certainly feels like he’s going to piss himself, but instead, his cock twitches in Harry’s hand, gushes with spurts of come that trail down his knuckles. His whole body wracks with shivers, pulled tight as a knot before he absolutely melts into the sheets. 

Harry draws his hand away, licks it clean unceremoniously. “That uh. Did that get you out of your head a minute?” 

Cooper licks his bottom lip. “More like out of this  _ galaxy _ ,” he whispers. “My God.” 

Harry grins, is enjoying looking at Cooper like this, splayed out and sweat-dampened, when Cooper snakes his hand over to him, brushes his thigh with his pinky finger. Harry shuffles forward and Cooper grips him, starts jerking his wrist with vigor. 

“Oh, Dale…” 

Cooper sits up fully, places his other hand to Harry’s bare shoulder. He kisses him, bodies pressed almost seamlessly together. Harry presses his tongue into Cooper’s mouth, gets him to hum approvingly. They ease down onto the bed, Harry on top, and he rolls his hips, drags his length over Cooper’s stomach. 

Cooper doesn’t mind, pulls his hand away to cup both sides of Harry’s face as they kiss. Harry ruts against him, panting into his mouth, eyebrows together, eyes closed. The room is quiet other than the wet push of skin against skin, the sound their lips make when pulling away to reconnect at new angles. Cooper thinks he could kiss Harry for hours. 

It doesn’t take long, though. Harry’s all keyed up from before, watching Cooper climax the way he did. He trembles and rolls his hips harder, finds the line where leg meets torso and thrusts there. “Oh, Dale,” he pants into Cooper’s mouth. “Dale…” He kisses him sloppily, comes over Cooper’s stomach, string after string until it puddles and runs down to the sheets. 

He pants and rolls himself off Cooper, stares up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry about uh. About the sheets,” he says. 

“Oh. It’s alright.” 

Harry gets up and grabs a towel off the hanging silver rack near the door, wipes Cooper down, tries to wipe the sheets best he can, too. He tosses the towel aside. He gets back into the bed and Cooper wiggles towards him. 

“Do you mind if I stay the night?” 

Cooper looks over at him fondly in the low, reddish dim of the twin-candle lights. “Not all,” he whispers. “In the morning, we can go get ourselves each a cup of the best damn coffee in the world.” 

**Author's Note:**

> :-) oh it's nasty town, boys
> 
> if you wanna talk to me on tmblr im @ficfucker i literally just got into twin peaks yesterday 
> 
> kudos + comment if you wanna see more stuff like this?


End file.
